


Thaw

by lamardeuse



Category: due South
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-22
Updated: 2010-04-22
Packaged: 2017-10-09 02:17:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/81898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lamardeuse/pseuds/lamardeuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first touch warms.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thaw

**Author's Note:**

> Written for due South Flashfiction on Livejournal (sex challenge).

In the flickering light of the oil lamp, his skin's landscape changes constantly, a shifting canvas of shadowy valleys and pale, pure hills.

He sighs, savouring the exquisite softness of the furs against his bare stomach and legs. Pillows his head on his arms and waits for the beginning. Watches the dawning wonder spread over the other's face as he removes layer after layer, until he stands naked in the middle of the igloo, his arms outstretched and greedy and surprised at the warmth to be found under the snow.

"I didn't know it could be like this."

He hides his joy in the crook of his arm.

_Neither did I. _

The first touch warms; a hand tenderly cups the back of his skull, molding to its contours. He closes his eyes to better appreciate the rising temperatures.

The second touch burns; three--no, four--fingers trail down his spine, leaving eddies and currents of heat spiraling over his trapezius, chasing one another between his vertebrae.

The third touch ignites; a thin, almost delicate fingertip traces the crease lower down, then invades without warning. Fire spreads to his extremities.

The fourth, fifth, sixth touches follow one another, explosion after explosion of heat and light and sound. Hands gripping, spreading, and the searing brand of a tongue pressed there, _there_, flickering and darting, the way flames seek fresh fuel. Soft cries that begin in the underbrush and end in the roar of an inferno that consumes treetops a hundred feet high.

And then, when his surface is reduced to ash, the fire is still not finished with him, no, because it has found a new territory to conquer, to consume, and it presses forward with a relentless, ruthless energy, taking everything, even the oxygen he breathes--

Before dawn blazes over the horizon, he wakes. Pillows his head on his arms and waits for the morning. Savours the extraordinary sight of a fire at rest, quiet and beautiful under a blanket of soft furs.

**Author's Note:**

> First published September 2003.


End file.
